


Dead by Daylight: Unraveled

by Xiiha



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Other, Plot, Plot deviates from original source material, Reader-Insert, Romantic Involvement with EVERYONE, Slow Burn, We're Ignoring Some of the Canon Lore, heavy on the plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-22 15:53:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30041082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xiiha/pseuds/Xiiha
Summary: "There is no escape..."That's the motto in the fog. Everyone says it and everyone believes it. But you don't. You know there has to be a way out, and you REFUSE to sit back and endure trial after trial of endless torment. But unlike the other residents of the fog, you're plagued by reoccurring, awful nightmares. You see shapes, hear whispers in your ears, and speak to wandering shadows that know your name... Maybe the fog's taking a harder toll on you than you thought.But you won't let it have you. Your will gives you the drive to keep searching, to seek out answers and clues. And as they say, where there's a will, there's a way. You won't fade here. You won't join the endless nothing that comprises the fog and beyond.There IS an escape. And you're going to find it.*Non-Binary Reader version. Female versionhere. Male versionhere.
Relationships: Adam Francis/Reader, Claudette Morel/Reader, Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Reader, David king/reader, Dwight Fairfield/Reader, Evan MacMillan | The Trapper/Reader, Feng Min/Reader, Frank Morrison/Reader, Herman Carter | The Doctor/Reader, Jake Park/Reader, Jeffrey "Jeff" Johansen & Reader, Joey (Dead by Daylight)/Reader, Julie (Dead by Daylight)/Reader, Kate Denson/Reader, Kazan Yamaoka | The Oni/Reader, Killers (Dead by Daylight)/Reader, Max Thompson Jr. | The Hillbilly/Reader, Meg Thomas/Reader, Nea Karlsson/Reader, Philip Ojomo | The Wraith/Reader, Sally Smithson | The Nurse/Reader, Survivors/Reader, Yui Kimura/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	1. Friends in the Fog

* * *

This is nice. Peaceful. 

Leaves crunch under your feet as you stroll leisurely through the fog. It's chilly, so you've tucked your hands down into the pockets of your hoodie. Claudette walks silently alongside you, a little woven basket tucked under her arm. A basket she wove herself. You recall watching her put the thing together with sticks she collected from around camp. She was scurrying around for about twenty minutes gathering them in her arms.. And she's well using her good work; the basket's filled with a variety of herbs and plants. 

You're helping her forage for medicinal herbs. People have been catching colds, lately. That's one of the few downsides of having a living-streak, you've learned; you're more prone to catching colds and keeping them... But Claudette's confident she can scrounge up something out here to tend to them. You're also stocking up on tea leaves. Well, leaves that _pass_ as tea leaves. None of you are quite sure what plant it is. Even Claudette, the fog's _resident botanist,_ hasn't been able to identify it. But they haven't poisoned any of you yet, and they make a damn good equivalent to tea when boiled, so they're considered a commodity.

  
Every passing moment, you side-eye your company. She's quiet as usual... You've only known her a short time, but Claudette's never been the chattiest of the bunch. In fact, she's one of the most reserved. A young woman who keeps mostly to herself and her plants. Or tries to, anyway. But when there's only a handful of you living around the same campfire, it's hard to stay strangers.

Claudette's eyes flicker over and she catches you eyeing her. She sheepishly fiddles her thumbs. "Thank you for coming out with me," she says. "I'm used to coming out here alone, but the company is nice, sometimes."

"Don't mention it," you say. "I needed to get away from that campfire for a little while, anyway."

"Hm," Claudette hums.

She seems content to end the conversation you're trying to spark. But this is a new record; most words you've spoken to each other in a single sitting...

You ask, "So... How have you been?" 

You cringe at yourself. 

Claudette looks at you. "Oh, um... I've been fine. As-As fine as I can be, given the circumstances..."

"Ah. Right, uh... Are you-"

"What's that up ahead?" Claudette interrupts. She stops and hurriedly apologizes, "I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to interrupt you."

"It's fine."

You follow her eyes and spot what she was pointing out. The veil of fog ahead of you is thin, and you can just barely make out a structure behind it. The two of you move forward and enter a clearing. Nestled within it, there's a two-story wooden cabin. Vines and foliage run up the walls, and the wood is aged and covered in green moss. The place has been abandoned for a long time, that's obvious.

Claudette stares at the structure with wonder. "I've never seen this place before," she murmurs.

"Yeah," You reply. "The fog's always shifting, and so does everything inside of it. That's how it works, right?"

"Nobody really knows how it works," Claudette sighs. 

"It's what I'm going with." 

You start toward the cabin, prompting Claudette to widen her eyes. "You think we should go inside?"

"Why not?" you say. "We might find something worth taking back to camp."

"But what if it's dangerous?" Claudette stops in front of you. "Maybe we should go get the others-"

"It can't be any more dangerous than what we endure in the trials, Claudette. _Relax."_ You lay a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

She tenses up under your hand and you quickly pull it back to your side. But you think you see her face flush just a shade darker, only for a moment. She quickly averts her eyes and tucks a few loose curls behind her ear. " I suppose a look couldn't hurt..."

The porch steps creak and groan under your feet as you ascend them. Claudette jumps in fright when one cracks beneath her. The place is falling apart, for sure. A lotta' danger hazards... But you offer Claudette a reassuring glance, then face the door. Cracks and moss cover the surface of the aged wood. And the door's parted...

You press a hand to it and push lightly. It groans as it swings open, then comes to a squealing stop. Moonlight floods into the cabin. Claudette peeks past you.

"It's empty," she says, surprised.

The cabin's bare-boned. The foyer is unfurnished. On the far wall, you see a door and an entryway leading into a kitchen. To the left, two windows covered with plain brown curtains. And to your right, just a few paces away, a staircase going up to the second floor. A thick layer of dust covers each step, and it's heavy in the air. Anything and any _one_ that lived here is long gone.

"Told you it'd be fine." You turn to face Claudette. "I'll go look upstairs."

Claudette hugs her basket in her arms. She shivers. "Okay. I'll check around down here."

You peel away from Claudette and move up the stairs. You go slowly, opting against dragging your hand on the splintery banister. Empty picture frames dot the walls as you ascend. It only makes you wonder whose home this was before the Entity snatched it away from the world...

When you reach the top of the stairs, you glance back and hear Claudette shuffling about the room below. You turn around and survey your surroundings. There's a hallway and three doors straight ahead. Two on the left side, one on the right, and a curtained window at the far end. You really doubt you'll find anything, but you're here, so may as well look...

The first room on the right is a bust; it's completely empty, save for what you can safely assume are rat droppings in the corner. The second room is stacked high with branches and sticks. But the _third_ room-

You enter and stop in place. The first and only thing that catches your eye is a hardcover book lying on the floor. The cover is red and blank. And like everything else inside the cabin, it's layered in dust. You approach, then lean down and take the book in your hands. After turning it over, you furrow your brows. There's no title on the cover, nothing written on the back or the spine... And your confusion doubles when you flip it open; all the pages are blank.

All but _one,_ actually.

You land on the first page and pause. There's a single line, messily handwritten in black ink across the center of the page. You thumb over it.

  
_"I know there's a way out."_

  
Your breath leaves you in a gasp as everything around you suddenly shifts and changes in the blink of an eye. Darkness engulfs you, and then you're no longer in the abandoned cabin. You're outside. And you hear flames crackling behind you.

You spin on your heels, eyes wide when you behold the sight of strangers surrounding you. People sitting on logs around a campfire, the light flickering across their unfamiliar faces, illuminating their features a glowing orange. Nearly a dozen, you count right off the bat, but then even more gathered in the surrounding area. They all share the same disheveled appearance, their clothes worn and their eyes weary. And turning around, you come face to face with a man standing just a few mere paces away in front of the campfire. He has a suntanned complexion and olive-green eyes. His face is rough, scruffy, and unkempt, and his chestnut hair is undercut. You lock eyes with him, but his are staring through you.

"I _know_ there's a way out," he says, firmly. His tone carries confidence, but it's betrayed by the uncertainty on his face. He holds a book in his hand. A book, you realize, appears to be an exact copy of the one you found in the cabin.

"There HAS to be a way out. If something brought us here, it can send us back home!" He waves the book around and persists, "I found writings out there in the fog. Writings from a woman named Nasha. She wrote about a single path, an _escape-"_

"Just some ramblings from a woman who lost her goddamn mind!" A man shouts. You turn to face him. He looks rough around the edges, and has a mean look on his face. He sneers at the man by the fire. "And you'll end up just like her if you don't stop going on about this fucking nonsense."

"But she found something. She knew something! And for all we know, she could've gotten out!"

A woman speaks next, her voice soft. You find her sitting on a log nearby. White skin, pale brown eyes, and oily black hair draped down over her shoulders. Heavy bags rest under her eyes, and the sadness that floods from them is almost contagious. "Or maybe she's dead. _Truly_ dead."

Sorrow is written over her features, and her fidgeting hands are balled into fists in her lap. She regards the man addressing them. "Don't do this to us, Bryce. Don't give us hope like this."

The man, presumably Bryce, draws his brows. He's gripping the book so tightly in his hand, his knuckles turn white. "There's a way out," he says, unconvincingly. "I know there's a way out. We-We just need to-"

He trails off and hangs his head. His fellow campers scrutinize him where he stands. "There _has_ to be a way out."

  
You blink, and he's gone. They're all gone. You're back in the cabin, in the cold and dark, frozen stiff and gripping the spine of the book in your hand.

"What-"

It was so vivid, and-and _real,_ like you were actually there! You could feel the heat from the flames, the cold of the surrounding fog prickling your skin-

You finally release the breath you had been subconsciously holding in. Then raise the book and stare hard at the blank cover. This... This might be worth keeping.

You turn around to leave the room, but come to a staggering stop, your eyes wide in surprise. You're face to face with a shadowed figure. Its blank, black visage is only inches from your own. And with horror, you watch as a maw splits apart, revealing two rows of sharp, glistening white teeth, and a black void behind them. It's grinning at you.

You shout and scramble backward, right into the wall. Your head knocks against the wood so hard you grunt and squeeze your eyes shut. And when you open them again, not even a second later, it's gone.

You hear fast footsteps coming up the stairs. The door bursts open and Claudette stands there, her face etched with fear. "Are-Are you okay?" She looks as disheveled as you're sure you do.

Your hand is clutching your chest, and your eyes scan the room. Whatever that thing was, it's gone. You scoff; maybe it was never really there...

After picking yourself back up, you nod your head. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm alright, Claudette. Thought I saw something, but I guess it's just the fog playing tricks on me..." You lift a hand to the back of your head and wince. "Knocked my head pretty hard. I'm sure I'll be seeing more crazy things, later..."

Claudette visibly relaxes. "Oh." She fixes her glasses over her nose and approaches you. Her hand touches your temple. "Do you need me to look at your head?"

Her fingers brush over your hand. You drop your arm back to your side and assure her, "I'm fine, really. Just a bump."

Claudette lowers her hand. Then her eyes catch the book still clutched in your other hand. "What's that?"

"Nothing. Just a blank book." You offer her a closer look at it, then tuck it under your arm. 

"You find anything?" you prompt, changing the subject.

Claudette nods. "I found some blankets, stuffed in the closet downstairs. But they might need a wash..."

Backing away from the room, she says, "We should go back to camp. This place is starting to give me the jitters..."

"Same here," you mutter. You nod in agreement and walk across the room. "Let's go."

She moves down the hall ahead of you, and you falter in place. After a pause, you flip open the book to the first page. The first page, which is now missing, torn directly from the spine. Your brows draw together. But you won't dwell on it. Not here, anyway.

You close the book and tuck it back under your arm, then head down the stairs.

* * *

The trip back to camp is uneventful, and you arrive within twenty minutes. That cabin is long gone now, and the odds you ever see it again are very, very slim, perhaps even non-existent.

As you part through the fog with Claudette in tow, you sigh in relief when the warmth of the campfire eases your cold bones. Some eyes meet yours: David's, Adam's, Bill's, Jane's, and even a brief glance from Jake. He quickly looks away. 

"Good news," you say. "We found some more tea leaves. No sugar, so it'll be a little bitter, but what can you do?"

Claudette approaches the campfire and sets her basket down. David snorts. "I like my tea bitter! Too much sugar's bad for ya' form anyways!"

You settle down amongst the others, taking a seat on a log in front of the crackling fire. Bill is sitting on the opposite end with a cigarette perched between his lips.

"Oi, you know wha' I've been thinkin'?" David starts. Bill sighs.

"I'm thinkin' we should start some construction 'round 'ere! Maybe put up a few shacks, aye? Gettin' sick an' tired of curlin' up on a lil' bedroll in a shitty lil' tent!"

"None of us are carpenters, David," Jane says, matter-of-factly.

David scoffs. "That so?" He throws an arm in a gesture at Jake. "You know a bit 'bout carpentry, dunt' you?"

Jake is leaning back against a nearby tree, his arms folded firmly across his chest. You look over at him.

Even though you're still relatively new to the fog, you've pretty much become familiar with everyone. Everyone but _Jake,_ that is. He has to be the most reserved person around camp. Claudette's shy, sure, but Jake's hardly spoken a word to you, much less even looked your way for more than five seconds at a time.

Currently, Jake doesn't look like he wants to be a part of the discussion. In fact, he almost looks ready to leave.

"No," he says, simply.

David sucks his teeth. "Just do us all a favor! I'm sure you're tired a' sleepin' on the ground wit' all the grubs and shit too!"

"I'm not a goddamn carpenter," Jake says.

"Then why're you always pokin' around those hooks, eh?"

"I'm good at breaking things, not fixing them. _Besides,"_ Jake closes his eyes and shrugs, "We don't have any tools or materials on hand to build anything."

He's apparently done talking. David huffs. "Some help you are."

Then he looks your way. You brace for impact.

"Oi! You any good with a hammer, mate?"

"Er, no, sorry," you respond.

"How about we make a suggestion box for the Entity?" Adam suggests, sarcastically. "I used to put them out for my students."

His jabbing sarcasm goes straight over David's head. David rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Now that could work," he says, confidently. "Oi oi, who's got a pen an' paper?"

You almost laugh. Adam sighs and face-palms. "I was pulling your leg, David."

"But it could really work!" David barks. "If this thing's goin' to give us bedrolls, it can give us walls too! Maybe a carpet an' a couple a' latrines!"

He stands up away from the log and looks up at the dark sky. "Are you listening, you massive twat? Give us somethin' to work with down 'ere! I'm not sleepin' on the ground forever like a do-!"

He cuts off abruptly as his form dissipates in a plume of dark smoke and crackling embers. It's very quiet all of a sudden.

"Thought he'd never shut up," Bill grunts.

The silence that follows David's absence is actually a little nerve-wracking... You pipe up and say, "I think we should all be grateful we even get this campfire. And lucky it never goes out..."

"Can't imagine being trapped in this place with no fire," Jane utters. She shivers and hugs herself. "Cold enough as it is."

You have Adam's attention, and his eyes glimpse the book sitting on your lap. "Where did you find that?" he asks.

"Claudette and I found a cabin out there. Abandoned and empty, but I found this just sitting on the floor..." You wave the book around with a sigh. "It's blank, though. Completely."

Adam looks visibly disappointed. "Ah... I got a little excited. Haven't had a good read in a long time."

You pick up a hint of sadness in his tone, then on his features. He hangs his head and stares at the fire.

It doesn't seem anyone's really in the mood to chat now. David might've been obnoxious, but he was keeping the camp alive. You stand up and walk away. "Going to take a nap," you mutter.

  
Your tent's only a couple of minutes away from the campfire. When you arrive, you crawl inside and take a seat. Your finger idly rubs the spine of the book while you sort through your muddled thoughts. What you saw in the cabin seemed real. Incredibly real... And that... _thing_ seemed just as real. But it wasn't. Couldn't have been. No one else here has ever reported anything like that. Not outside of the trials, anyway. So what are the odds you'd be the first?

Putting your thoughts to rest, you set the book aside and plop onto your back so _you_ can get some rest. You'll probably be roped into another trial soon, so you're going to get as much shut-eye as you can in the meantime.

* * *

Your feet are cold and wet. Condensed breaths leave your parted lips. You peel open your eyes and frown.

You're somewhere else. Standing ankle-deep in freezing water, and surrounded on all sides by cold, dense fog. The sky above you is pitch black. There are no stars, no moon... An intense shiver runs up your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"What is this?"

Your voice bounces off unseen walls and echoes back to you before fading out of pitch. You try to move, but you can't lift your feet. The blood in your veins runs cold, goosebumps stipple your arms. Your eyes scan your surroundings, then land upon a disturbing sight that causes your heart to skip a beat.

Just ahead, you see the water rippling, then the dark form of a head poking out above the surface. A grin stretches across its face. The same gnarly, glistening white grin from before. It's watching you.  
Your breath escapes you in a sharp gasp. You can't even rear back in surprise, as your body's still rooted stiffly in place, paralyzed. The being, whatever it is, moves.

It rises slowly from the water, approaching you one long stride at a time. Its pitch-black form is silhouetted against the gray fog behind it. Fear courses through you.

"Who-Who are you?" you question, voice shaking.

The being doesn't answer. It continues its approach, grin unwavering. Spiny black claws suddenly sprout from its back. They share a frightening resemblance to the Entity's.

Panic and fear have gripped you completely. 

"Don't!" you shout at the creature. But it doesn't stop until it's directly in front of you. It's tall, you can't help but notice. It towers over you, its neck bent to stare straight down into your frightened eyes. It leans in close, and a terrible, acrid smell of ash and death sting your nostrils.

It speaks in a deep, rumbly voice, which sounds like hundreds of other voices all melded together and distorted, each struggling to be heard over the others.

 _"Are you enjoying your stay?"_ it purrs. You shiver. The creature chuckles, amused.

You blink, and it's gone. But then you feel its cold, unwelcome body pressed against your back. A cry escapes your lips. You can't even turn to look at it.

_"I'll take that as a no..."_

It presses a hand suddenly to your chest, just over your fast-beating heart. Intense pressure begins building up inside you.

The creature's voice is directly in your ear, next. _"Still warm,"_ it murmurs. _"But the fog will soon change that... We will need to work fast."_

You can't choke out another word; the pressure in your chest is rising, becoming unbearably painful. You hear the sickening crack of the creature's clawed extremities as they move around you, embracing you. The spines tickle your arms and legs and neck. One tangles itself in your hair. All you manage is a strained whimper.

 _"Forgive me,"_ the creature chuckles, _"These twisted things have a mind of their own..."_

Desperately, you try to struggle or move, to do _anything,_ but you **can't!**

 _"Don't fight this,"_ your tormentor says. _"I just want to see what I'm working with."_

It's hurting like hell, that pressure in your chest. And you can't _breathe-_

* * *

You jolt awake, gasping, and feel warm hands throttling your shoulders. You're suddenly face to face with Jake. His features are twisted in worry.

"Hey, newbie? You alright?"

Your thumping heart is slowing to a steady pace. But your hairs are still on end, and your body shivering in fright.

"I'm fine," you manage, your voice hoarse. You slowly sit up and rake a hand back through your hair. Your skin's cold and clammy to the touch...

When you register the rest of your surroundings, you sigh in relief. It was just a nightmare. A nightmare, but... it felt so _real._ Just like in the cabin. Jake's still staring at you with concern.

"It was a nightmare," you say.

Jake pulls back. "Some nightmare," he scoffs. "I was walking by and heard you choking."

You sigh. "I was, in my dream." You don't know what else to say. How do you explain what happened? What you _felt?_

There's a moment of silence, then Jake grunts and moves to leave your tent. But he falters and stops. Facing you again, he begins, "You haven't been here long, right? I've only recently started seeing you around camp... And I don't think I got your name."

"I hardly ever see you," you respond. "And when I do, you don't look like you're in a talking mood..."

Jake nods, then sighs. He abashedly combs a hand back through his hair. "I, uh... I get like that sometimes. After rough trials. And most of them are rough." He pauses, then puts out a hand. "I'm Jake if you don't already know. But I'm sure the others have had a lot to say about me..."

You take his hand and notice him flinch at the touch. You're freezing cold, as you're sure he's just noticed...

"I've only heard good things. _Mostly..."_ You shake his hand. "I'm (Y/N)."

Jake nods. "I'll see you around." He pulls his hand back to his side and leaves your tent. Leaves you _alone._

As soon as he's gone, another odd shiver runs up your spine. Your hand subconsciously moves up to your chest. And that heavy, burning sensation you felt in your dream still lingers there... What does it mean? What did _any_ of it mean?

Maybe there's no point in trying to decipher it. The fog is strange, evil. And if there's one thing it's good at, it's getting into your head. But you won't let it. Things are bad enough with these trials, you won't rob yourself of what little comfort you have left.

You lie back down and release a slow sigh.

 _It was just a dream,_ you assure yourself. That's it. Nothing more...

  
But then... _why can you still feel its touch?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went through this and swapped up the pronouns, but if I missed any anywhere, please let me know!


	2. Madness

You're in the Memorial Institute. 

You only know that because you spawned outside the doors and saw the decrepit old sign. It's your first time traversing its winding maze of halls and rooms, so you falter every time you turn a corner, afraid you'll bump face-first into this trial's selected tormentor.   
And as you've already noted, it's a pain trying to locate generators. You've been wandering in the near dark for over five minutes and haven't found a single one. It's nerve-wracking trying to navigate this place, what with the minuscule amount of light offered by the windows in the halls, and the busted lights flickering above you.

You're on edge as you creep cautiously down a corridor. If you can help it, you're going to stay off the radar as long as you can. But being found in these trials is inevitable. The killers have eyes around each realm, and a killer instinct drawing them toward their prey. 

A crow perched on a windowsill caws as you approach, its beady eyes observing you. You swat it away and crouch behind a rusted cart. The hall ahead of you is silent and shrouded in darkness. You have the jitters, just sitting here apprehensively, but you can't wait forever. The sooner the generators are repaired, the sooner you can be out of this hell. 

You move forward. And coming up on another corner, you brace, then turn. And you shriek. Dwight shrieks, too. 

Then you both relax. 

"Damnit-" You gasp, clutching your heart. 

"Sorry," Dwight apologizes. "I-I thought I heard someone over here."

He swivels around, on edge, then faces you again. "You're looking for a generator? There's one back this way."

You follow Dwight into a dark room. And when your eyes adjust, you take note, it's a shower room. The stalls are filthy and stained with muck. A generator sits in the far corner. 

"Everyone has a hard time in this location," Dwight says, taking a knee at the generator and getting to work. "You never know who or _what_ you'll run into turning a corner..."

"Yeah, I just figured that out firsthand," you respond. You sit on the other side and bury your hands in the mechanisms, then root around for some wires. "Not to mention this place makes me claustrophobic."

Dwight grunts in acknowledgment. He pauses, his eyes flickering to you. He prompts, "You're _uh_ , new, right?"

You nod.

Dwight hums. "Yeah, I must not have been in camp when you showed up, whenever that was... People just appear sometimes. And there's never any real _introductions-"_

A spurt of black oil shoots out of the generator and sprays him right in the face. You both pause, and Dwight sighs as he wrenches his hands free from the machine. He plucks his glasses from his face and wipes the lenses clean with his shirt. "I'm Dwight, the village idiot. Or-Or _camp_ idiot, more like..."

You offer him a smile. "Nice meeting you, Dwight. I'm (Y/N)."

Dwight returns the smile with a bashful one. He replaces his glasses on his nose and says, "You might still be trying to wrap your head around everything here, so I can give you a few pointers. I used to host seminars back at the office."

"I won't turn down any helpful advice," you say. "God knows I could use it.."

You hear a crow caw in the hallway and you tense up. The silence is putting you more on edge than you already were. You continue the conversation. 

"How long have you been here?" you ask.

Dwight visibly hesitates. He touches his chin with an oily hand. "Uh... I... I can't really say."  
  
His brows draw together and an uncertain look morphs into his features. "It's hard to track days here, almost impossible. I miss my cubicle calender."

You crack a smile and Dwight lets out an awkward laugh. "I hated those long hours in the office, but what I wouldn't give to be back there right now."  
  
Continuing his repairs, he says, "Filing stacks of paperwork and getting pushed around by my higher-ups was nothing compared to all of this. 

"I hear you," you say. "You have any plans in mind when you get back?"

Dwight pauses. His brows crease together. "I, uh... I haven't thought that far ahead."

A glum atmosphere hangs above you both, now. Dwight soundlessly returns his attention to the task at hand and sighs. "Hard to think about the future when you're not sure you have one."

You frown.

_Way to kill the mood, me..._

You reach into the generator again, but it suddenly backfires in your face. You rear back with a shout, grabbing your singed face. "Shit," you curse.

Dwight looks alarmed. His head swivels back and forth, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed. "It's fine," he says. "But-But the killer has our number now."

He stands away from the generator and helps you up. "We should spl- _AH!"_

You both scream as electric currents rush through your feet, then course up through your bodies. You stagger and fall against the wall, hands clutching your head. And when you lift your furrowed gaze, you see a large silhouette standing in the doorway on the opposite side of the room. A man wielding a long, metal shaft barbed with spikes that crackle with electricity. The killer's head tilts, his chaotic eyes forcibly pried open by an odd metal contraption. But a strangely giddy laugh leaves his mouth. 

Dwight's frightened eyes meet yours and he urges, "Run!"

He doesn't need to tell you twice. You both split and run in opposite directions. But the killer's on your tail, steadily gaining faster and faster. You throw a glance back over your shoulder and see him pounding his palm with that weapon, apparently eager to catch and harm you. 

You run without direction through the halls, winding around trays and hospital beds. And each obstacle slows you down, allowing the madman on your flank to gain closer and closer. His eery, manic laughter is sending chills up your spine. He's within swinging distance, you realize, his menacing stature looming over your form. You hear him pull back, then swing, his mace swishing through the air. But you're saved by _just_ a hair when you slam a pallet down on him. 

You hear the big man grunt behind you, but you don't wait around for him to recover from the stun. You dart into a nearby room and crouch behind an old vending machine. 

Moments pass by, then the Doctor's maniacal laughter comes up the hall. You hear him enter the room and slow his pace, his footfalls faint and steady. He's looking for you. You slap a hand over your mouth and remain deathly silent. Every few seconds, more strange currents course through you, causing your body to jerk and shudder, but you keep a grip and wait. More moments pass by, the tension in the air growing thicker and thicker, then you feel the man's overwhelming presence leave the room. And soon, his footsteps fade out of earshot down the hall. 

You exhale in relief and lean back against the wall. "Damn..."

_"Close call."_

You jump in fright, scrambling to your feet and turning your head to behold your unwanted company. 

That... _THING_ from before is back. It stands in front of you, its wide grin flashing larger when you face it. The blood in your veins runs cold. You know you're not dreaming this time-

 _"Your first chance meeting with the Doctor,"_ the creature says. _"His bedside manner is wanting, but he's an expert in his craft."_

You slowly back away from the being. "You're back," you utter. "Why did you come back?"

 _"For you,"_ it replies. 

"Al-Alright," you scoff, "And what the hell do you want?" you shakily demand. 

The dark creature chuckles and takes a long stride toward you. You take a step back.

_"I only want your cooperation."_

It's gone, then it's behind you. You feel its hands on your shoulders and its grinning maw inches from your ear. _"Time might be endless here in the Dark Realm, but **yours** isn't..."_

You rip free and put some distance between yourself and it. "Stay away from me," you order. 

_"I can't,"_ the creature responds. _"You've been trying to keep me out, I've noticed. But you need to let me in."_

It spreads its arms wide and tilts its head. That grin seems permanent. _"Embrace me."_

You can't let this thing get in your head. It's hard enough holding onto your sanity here, and if you let these creatures of the fog get in, there's no telling where you'll end up. You turn away and try to leave, but you're trapped suddenly in place. Those spidery legs enclose around you, drawing a startled gasp from your mouth. 

_"You're different,"_ the creature says, its body holding your own. _"Fresh,"_ it purrs. 

Your body shudders. You squeeze your eyes shut, grit your teeth. Sounds are filling your head. Harsh, grating squeals and strangers' screams. You're seeing dark, gruesome images and things that aren't there. 

That's all this is, you realize. This isn't real. **None** of it is. 

You shake free of the shadowy being's grasp and murmur, "No... No, this isn't real."

 _"I can assure you I'm not a part of the Doctor's twisted treatment,"_ the creature says behind you.

You ignore it and move across the room, then run. As soon as you're back out in the hallway, you walk at a steady pace, eyes scanning for another generator. But those sounds and images aren't leaving your head. You feel something scraping the inside of your skull, an itch you can't scratch. Faltering in place, you take your head in your hands and grit your teeth. 

"This isn't real." You try to steady your breathing, try to force out the sounds and images invading your mind. Sweat beads on your forehead, your stomach flips, and your skin crawls. "Get out of my head!" you scream. 

You only just get back to your feet when a large hand roughly grips your bicep. You let out a startled cry and turn your head up to face your assailant. The _Doctor._

He looms above you, his glowing white orbs piercing yours. You see madness in his eyes.

"You should be on the _operating table,"_ he asserts.

He walks, dragging you alongside him. You fight and pound at his fist, but his grip doesn't relent. 

You're dragged forcibly down a long corridor, kicking and struggling to get free. Fear is coursing through you. You notice he's passing hooks. As far as you know, the killers don't do this. But this one's deranged! And you fear what he might have in store for you...

Blinding lights momentarily blind you as the Doctor drags you into a room. A treatment theater. Your frantic eyes dart back and forth between the many monitors suspended above the room. Each one plays a different, disturbing sequence of images and audio. Sweat beads down your face.

The Doctor snatches your neck and lifts you off the floor, and you're slammed down painfully onto the operating bed. You kick at him, but he pulls a restraining belt across your chest, trapping your arms to your side. You scream in frustration. 

"Hey!" you bark. "Did-Did I miss something? Or aren't you supposed to throw me on a _hook?"_

The Doctor meets your eyes and laughs. "My newest patients receive _special_ treatment," he says. You shudder under his unblinking gaze. 

The doctor takes your chin and roughly turns your head from side to side, getting a close look at you. You huff in pain and try to fight him, "I don't need a **checkup,"** you seethe. 

"Doctor's orders," he responds, leering. 

He releases your chin but then jabs his thumb in your mouth. You grunt as he thumbs over your teeth and gums, scrutinizing you closely. "A clean bill of health," he japes. _"I can change that."_

You bite down on him hard. But the action prompts him to release more electrical currents into your head. You scream in pain as he pulls his hand back. 

"You might be a difficult patient," he says. "Anesthetic should fix that." He takes a syringe from a tray nearby, then taps it with his forefinger. His twisted grin makes you shudder. 

You struggle against the restraints, kicking out your legs and thrashing wildly on the table. And your futile struggle intensifies as he lowers the syringe, closer and closer to your wide eyes. You squeeze your eyes shut and lock your jaw in fearful anticipation. 

But the needle never pierces you. Instead, you hear an awful crack cut through the air, and your eyes snap open to behold a puzzling sight. 

A spiny, black claw sprouted from the ground and protruding from the Doctor's chest. A twisted laugh escapes the Doctor's mouth, but judging from the way his face boggles, he's as surprised as you are. And in a split second, the ground splinters and cracks under him, and he's yanked down, swallowed whole by the crackling abyss. The scar in the earth closes up after him. 

Moments of silence follow. You're frozen stiff in place, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock. 

The only thing filling the silence is the background noise from the monitors playing above you. And you're snapped out of your trance when you hear the roar of the exit gates powering up across the hospital.

* * *

"Can't believe it was that easy," Dwight utters as he parts through the fog and enters the clearing into camp. You tail behind him, Meg, and Ace. 

Ace smirks. "Shouldn't be complaining about it! How often do you get such an easy escape?"

He strolls over to the campfire with a bounce in his step. "That's pure luck," he says. "Knew I still had it..."

Him and Dwight select their seats on the logs nearby. 

Meg leans back against a nearby tree and folds her arms over her chest. "I didn't see the killer _once_ during that trial..."

"We did," Dwight pipes up. He gestures at you where you stand in front of the fog barrier. "The Doctor. He found us on a generator and we scattered. He went after them, but I guess they were able to run him around."

All eyes are on you. Even Feng Min's, who sits on the opposite side of the fire. "That _does_ sound lucky," she comments. "You must not be so bad, for a _noob."_

You're still shaken after what you went through in the trial. After what you saw _happen._ And you haven't said a word about it. Your body is tense and your throat dry. You don't know how to respond to them, your mind's just in such disarray. You haven't been here long, but you know that what you saw isn't something that just happens. The killers rule those trials, not the other way around... But something took it. Something _devoured_ it-

"Are you alright?" Meg prompts. You're torn from your thoughts and you meet her eyes. She looks concerned. They all do. 

You swallow a hard lump in your throat. "Ye-Yeah," you stammer. I'm fine."

They don't look convinced. Dwight, especially. He was the one that found you strapped down to the table, in shock. He didn't know what to make of it, but he escorted you to the exit gates without poking or prodding for information. And now he's covering for you, making sure you don't have to tell. 

"I'm... I'm going to take a nap," you say. 

Dwight opens his mouth to speak, but he falls silent as you move through the camp, headed in the direction of the clearing where your tent is pitched. No one else says a word as you pass by.

* * *

You pace the area in front of your tent, your head downcast and your arms folded in front of you. You're still trying to wrap your head around everything... You can still hear the moment those claws tore through the earth and gored the Doctor. His giddy fucking laugh as it ripped him apart and dragged him to _Hell._

Or what you _think_ was hell. You don't what's down there, in that furious, burning void. But that's the closest comparison you're able to make, with what little you gathered. 

Is he gone? Gone for good? There's no way of knowing unless you're pitted against him again, in a trial yet to come. And if he is gone, then how? _Why?_

Your skin is clammy and your breathing erratic. You shake your head and comb your fingers back through your hair. 

"That's the big question," you mutter. "Why?"

You're exhausted and disconcerted. You know you won't find the answers raking through your head for them, so you won't stress over it. You turn around to enter your tent and get some sleep.

Then you're in the void again. 

You stand ankle deep in cold water, the dense fog surrounding you. The sky is dark, no stars, no moon, and you can't move. All the same as before. 

_"Do you still believe I'm a figment of your demented imagination?"_

Your eyes stare straight ahead. That thing is there again, watching you, grinning. 

"I don't know what to believe anymore," you sigh. 

_"You must think you've gone mad,"_ it chuckles. _"But it's far too early for that. You still have plenty of sanity inside that mind of yours..."_

"Oh yeah? Then how the hell am I seeing ** _you?"_ **you bite. 

The creature purrs. _"Because I'm real."_

You look away, but everywhere you look, it follows your line of sight. You shut your eyes, open them, and it's gone. And now it's behind you. 

_"Do I frighten you?"_ it questions. It's so close, you can feel its cold breath on the back of your neck. 

"What the hell do you think?" you say sarcastically. 

The creature chuckles in your ear. _"I thought so... But I'm an ally. A... **friend."**_

You shiver as one of its hands touches your shoulder. _"Give me the benefit of the doubt."_

"Just tell me what you want," you seethe through jittery teeth. "What you _are."_

_"Of course."_

The creature moves around you to stand face to face. It plucks your chin with a slender, black finger. _"We are one and the same."_

You scoff. The creature laughs. 

_"Truly,"_ it says. _"I wouldn't lie to you."_

You don't think you're going to get an honest answer out of this thing. Next question. 

"And what do you want?"

 _"I need you,"_ it says. _"Your **cooperation.** We can help each other. You want out, don't you? To free yourself from this twisted purgatory?"_

Your brows draw together. That's exactly what you want. But you know getting it isn't going to be easy. 

"And you think you can get me out? All of us? What's the catch? What do YOU get out of this?"

_"I want out, too."_

Surprise laces your features. 

_"I was like you, once... Free,"_ the creature says. _"But this place has twisted and corrupted me..."_

"What are you saying? That you-... That you were _human_?"

Your company chuckles. _"Precisely."_

You don't believe it. You _refuse_ to believe it. Because if it's true, it carries some awful implications... Is this what's going to happen to you all here? Twisted by the fog and turned into- whatever THIS thing is?

Just the thought sends a chill snowballing up your spine. 

"No," you say. "I don't believe you."

_"It's the unfortunate truth, (Y/N)."_

You cast your gaze to the water at your feet. You see your own shadowed, unclear face staring back up at you. Your hands form fists at your sides.

"If you know a way out, then why haven't you taken it?"

You face the creature again. It answers.

_"I am blind to the clues and paths to freedom. I have become one with the fog, a part of it. But **you** aren't."_

It hums, a deep, reverberating hum that fills your head. _"You can navigate this twisted place. You're drawn toward the light in the ever-changing dark corners of this realm. You have proven it already when you found the first mark. The first **clue.** It was left behind by another like you."_

You realize it's talking about that man you saw. The one you saw in the vision. 

"Bryce? Hi-His name was Bryce, right? That's who you're talking about?"

The creature grins. _"You're a sharp one."_

"What happened to him?" you question. 

_"He was twisted by the fog. Violated, corrupted, **changed."**_

For a moment, you see the corners of that awful grin twinge. Only for a moment. But it makes you realize something. A revelation that has your blood ice-cold, and your eyes widening. 

"Are-Are you-?"

The creature, this shadowy, faceless entity, falls silent, and its grin wilts. But again, only for a _moment._

 _"That man is gone,"_ it says. _"He, and the others that came before him. None could find the answers before the fog claimed their souls. But you are different. I felt something **powerful** inside of you."_

You scoff. "All of this is so-"

 _"Mad?"_ the creature interrupts. _"This place is mad, (Y/N). That is why we must leave, before it **consumes** us. And I need your help to make that happen."_

"And what is it YOU would contribute to this little partnership?"

_"I can offer you much-needed guidance. And protection, when things get... hazardous."_

Another realization hits you like a ton of bricks. You lift your brows. "It was you... _You_ stopped the doctor."

The creature purrs. 

You take that as confirmation. You don't know how it did it, but it _actually_ protected you. It lashed out against a killer and stopped it... Swallowed it in that void. Just recalling the image makes you shiver. This thing is powerful. 

It's behind you again, frustratingly. Its hands are on your shoulders, and its gnarly mouth close to your ear. _"Let us find an escape, together."_ It purrs, _"Please?"_

You shudder under its touch. But there's no denying that you want to get out. You want EVERYONE to get out. And if this thing is really offering to help you get there, then... you might need to take this chance. After all, what else do you have left to lose? If you're stuck here forever, it's only a matter of time until the fog corrodes and corrupts you. This could be IT. And if this thing really is the man you saw, then it still wants to get out. 

You swallow a thick lump in your throat. "Okay," you say. "I'll help you."

The creature comes face to face with you again, visibly pleased. It extends a spiny appendage from its back. _"Do you want to shake on it?"_ And it tilts its head. You're sure that if it had eyes, it'd be batting its lashes at you. 

You slap the claw away. "If we're really doing this, then I'm laying down some ground rules. First, you keep those things _away_ from me." You shiver recalling the first time they violated your body. "And _secondly,"_

You put out a hand. "I'm a normal person. And normal people shake hands."

The creature chuckles in amusement. It takes your hand with its own cold, thin fingers. _"Freedom is just around the corner."_

You shudder. The creature reads the apprehension etched over your face and laughs. _"I'm an ally, (Y/N). Perhaps even a companion..."_

"I'm not looking for companionship from you."

The creature's grin widens. _"That could change."_

"It won't."

_"It might."_

You huff. And when you blink, it's gone. It's all gone. You're standing in front of your tent again, back in reality. But when you look down at your hand, you see dark smoke and embers whisking away. 

You can't help but wonder if you just struck a deal with the devil. 


	3. Small Steps

You instinctively duck as you hear a bottle whiz just overhead. It shatters against a nearby tree and you’re caught in a cloud of the noxious purple gas that surrounds you. It travels to your lungs and gives you a coughing fit, but you scramble away and keep running. You can hear the Clown shaking up more bottled tonics behind you and gaining steadily. A glance back over your shoulder sends a shiver up your spine. The bastard has a nasty look on his face, and a wide red smile plastered crudely around his toothy grin. You didn’t think it could get worse after the Doctor, but this guy has _fingers_ dangling off his belt! And you dread wondering what he might have in store for you if he catches you…

There’s a pallet dead ahead, but you don’t make it in time. A bottle you don’t expect hits you upside the head and shatters. The force and pain alone are enough to send you staggering. You hack up your lungs and crash into a tree. Your eyes water as the toxin incapacitates you. The Clown’s portly form strides to a stop before you, and a boisterous laugh makes his round gut bounce.

“The new ones are never a _challenge,”_ he croaks. He lets out a few nasty coughs, then brandishes his butterfly knife. “I'll be adding your fingers to my collection," he leers

He steps toward you, but you throw out a hand. “Wait!”

He halts.

“I-I have a joke,” you say, face etched with anxious fear.

The Clown snorts, clearly amused by the offer. He lowers his knife and spins the blade around his finger. He’s humoring you, but not for long.

You swallow a lump in your throat and begin, “Okay, so—” You trail off, cough a couple more times, then continue, “Why couldn’t the clown laugh?”

He stares at you expectantly, waiting for the punchline. But it’s not _you_ that delivers it.

The earth suddenly cracks apart beneath the Clown, and a hooked extremity shoots up and pierces him from the back and through his gut. He barks in surprise as the claw lifts him right off the ground, dangling him over a fresh puddle of his own gore and viscera. Blood spatters your face and you flinch back against the tree.

_“Because he broke his funny bone.”_

Your shadowy ally spawns beside you, its grin unwavering as it beholds its gruesome execution. Its head turns to face you and it laughs. _“Very trite.”_

You pick yourself up away from the tree with a heavy sigh. “I was stalling.” Dragging an arm across your bloodied face, you add, “And that was the first thing that popped into my head.”

The creature chortles. _“I have a better one,”_ it says. It faces the Clown again and leers. _“Why couldn’t the Clown sit down for a week?”_

Its grin grows across its face. You pick up the underlying malicious intent in its tone and shudder at the implications. You’re definitely not sticking around to see the punchline. You quickly depart and hear the most god-awful noises behind you. But you block them out and hurry across the trial. And to your relief, you hear the power surge to the exit gates in the distance.

When you arrive at the nearest gates, you meet Nea there, and she’s already got her hands on the switch. Her wide eyes flicker back over her shoulder, meeting yours. She’s surprised to see you. “I thought the Clown got you.” She scoffs and mutters, “We’re both screwed, though if this damn thing doesn’t open quick enough…”

“Relax,” you say. “The Clown’s—” You trail off and shiver as you recall the disturbing sounds. “Preoccupied.”

Nea gives you a strange look.

“Just—… Don’t ask.”

* * *

You stroll leisurely through the fog toward the campsite. Nea booked it ahead of you, eager to return to camp. But you don’t walk alone; your shadowy friend makes its reappearance, taking form in a cloud of black smoke.

_“The jester popped like a grape when I finished with him,”_ It grins.

“I don’t need the details.” You glance up at the gangly creature as it strides alongside you. “Where do you… _take_ them when you do that?”

_“They go to a time out corner,”_ the creature answers, apparently pleased with itself. _“And the extra naughty ones get a **spanking**_ _…”_

You furrow your brows. “So they aren’t really gone.” You sigh. “I guess that means I’m going to inevitably see those killers again.”

_“Indeed,”_ your company chuckles. _“And they’re going to be **thrilled** to see you again.”_

“Great,” you mutter. “So by protecting me, you’re just putting a bigger target on my head.”

_“My protection wouldn’t be warranted if you could protect_ **_yourself.”_ **

“You don’t just expect me to square up with the killers, right?”

_“Of course not. But your friends seem fully capable of getting themselves out of those sticky situations…”_

“They’ve all been here for who _knows_ how long,” you say. “And I don’t exactly plan on sticking around long enough to become as familiar as they have here. We’re working together to accomplish _just that.”_

You falter suddenly and stop in place, facing your shadowy friend. “And since we’re working together, I want a name. Or something I could call you, at least.”

The creature tilts its head. _“Call me whatever you like,”_ it purrs.

It’s allowing you to choose a name for it. And a few names immediately come to mind. A few very _unflattering_ names… But while tempting, you’re not sure you want the word “Asshole” slipping off your tongue every time you beckon for your shady partner… And you opt against choosing something teasing or playful, too. This thing might take it the wrong way and think you’re being cute with it…

So, you allow yourself a moment of thought. You’ve never named another person, after all, so the occasion calls for consideration. Then a _single_ word comes to mind. A word that resonates with you. A word you’re familiar with, although you don’t quite know why…

“Bastion,” you say, simply. _It sounds right_ , you think.

Your shadowy companion tilts its head. _“Bastion?”_

“Yeah. Simple, and not too affectionate…”

The creature’s grin widens somehow. _“Oh, you thought hard about it, I can tell.”_

“No, I didn’t.”

_“You did. You chose a name with_ ** _meaning_** _… There’s nothing more affectionate than that,”_ it teases.

“Then how’s Bastard sound?”

This draws a genuine laugh from the creature’s gaping maw. _“I’ll take the former,”_ it chuckles, flashing you a grin.

Shaking your head, you turn back around and keep walking. One of Bastion’s clawed extremities strays too close to your shoulder, so you swat it away. “I’ve also been meaning to ask you,” you say. “What’s with the creepy-ass smile?”

Bastion purrs deeply. _“It makes me seem more approachable.”_

You scoff.

It laughs. _“You have spare time now,”_ it says. _“And perhaps that time would be best spent beginning our search. Best use this time while you can. It IS limited…”_

“I know,” you respond. “Believe me, I want out as much as you do.” Another claw ghosts the back of your neck, so you swat at it. “But I don’t exactly have a roadmap laid out in front of me. I’m as lost as you are.”

You finally arrive at the fog barrier dividing the campsite from the rest of the realm and you pass through. Bastion disappears, and you enter the camp to hear Nea amid a discussion with David and Jeff, who share a log, and Meg, who’s doing stretches off to the side. Nea’s bragging, actually. About _you._

“-and it was just the two of us, right? But the newbie kept that fat clown busy long enough for me to pop TWO whole gens’ and get the doors powered.” She scoffs. “I thought they’d be minced meat in two minutes, _tops_. But they're not bad…”

She spots you standing at the border and smiles. “Or was it just luck?” she teases.

“Just luck,” you admit.

Jeff scoffs. “Some luck,” he says, closing his sketchbook. “I wasn’t that lucky my first time in the ring.”

David guffaws and slaps Jeff on the belly. “Cause you’re carryin’ all those extra kilos!”

Jeff swats him away and David laughs. He looks at you and barks, “Oi! How’d you do it? I know that Clown bloke’s a bit on the heavy side, but the cunt’s fast! Give us some pointers, mate.”

You take a seat and hesitate, “I, er… I just ran.”

Nea scoffs. “I might have to do some surveillance on you. The last trial we had together against the Nurse, you got out without so much a _scratch._ And that Nurse is no joke.”

Meg pauses mid-stretch, her leg still extended out in front of her. “Now that you mention it… I got matched with them recently, too. The Doctor was on them, but I never saw him once. We blew through those generators.” She stands up straight and faces you. “Pretty lucky you could run him around for so long…”

It sounds like they’re about to interrogate you... You sigh and throw your hands up. “You got me. I guess my big secret’s out.”

Everyone watches you, waiting expectantly. You say, “A demonic creature with a flirtatious attitude and spidery legs protruding from its back acts as my personal guardian angel. It eats killers.”

There’s a pause. A long pause. Meg’s looking at you like you’ve lost your marbles, and an incredulous look is etched over Nea’s face. Jeff looks speechless. You think this awkward silence might last forever, but then David laughs. “Right!”

He’s bent over, hugging his stomach and laughing his ass off. “That’s cute, mate!”

Nea snorts. “Fine,” she says, “keep your secrets.” She leans forward and speculates, “I think you’re just packin’ heat under all of that. More than Meg.”

Meg looks your way, and you notice her eyes glance down your body. Nea laughs. “Jealous, Red? You might not be the fastest camper around, now. There’s a new person in town looking to take your title.”

Meg scoffs. “If they're able to get us out of trials faster, then I’ll gladly pass the mantle.”

Good. Your creepy, dark secret _remains_ a creepy dark secret...

You only just take a seat by the fire, when you spot Bastion lurking at the edge of the camp, watching you. Immediately, you tense up and furrow your brows, half-expecting one of the others to see it and scream. But they don’t… In fact, they’re none the wiser of its presence among them. That comes as a relief, although an unwelcome one. It’s alarming that you’re the only one able to see this thing…

Bastion tilts its head and taps at its wrist. You sigh, then stand back up. All eyes are on you.

“You going somewhere?” Meg questions. “You just got back, don’t you want to relax?”

_“Sleeping Beauty_ is probably just going to take another nap,” Nea snorts. “It’s all they ever do around here…”

“I’m going on a walk, actually,” you respond. You head toward the fog barrier, saying, “I can’t hang around camp all the time, or I’ll lose my mind.”

“You’ll lose your mind going out there in the fog,” Jeff says. “There could be any number of things lurking around.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, stopping to look back at them.

David barks, “Well, I’m comin’ with ya’! If we run into any trouble, I’ll give the blokes some nice shiners.” He kisses his fist and Nea laughs.

“You’ve said that a thousand times! But the last time you tried throwing hands in a trial, you got your ass handed to you!”

“Oi, I put up a good fight though! And I’ll do the same out ‘ere!”

Nea snorts as she stands from the log. “I’m coming too. Might find something cool out there… Hey!” She shouts at Meg. “Come with us, Red! You and _Speedy_ here can race, show us who really owns the title of _Fastest in the Fog.”_

Meg shrugs. “Why not? I could use a challenge.” She looks at you with a cheeky smile. “If you’re up for it.”

“Uh,” you hesitate. “I don’t think—”

You trail off when you spot Bastion lingering nearby. That same grin stretches over its face as it spectates the interaction. _“The fog’s more fun with friends,”_ it says, tilting its head.

Well, since you have its blessing now…

“Sure,” you say. “I guess I could use the company.”

* * *

You severely underestimated Meg’s speed and got CLOWNED in that race.

You come to a staggering stop behind her, then lean down and brace your hands on your knees, panting for breath. “You… You are really fast,” you gasp. Your heart’s pounding in your chest; the trials never even take this much out of you…

Meg lifts her shirt to wipe a sheen of sweat from her forehead. “Yeah,” she breathes. “I was born running track.”

You believe her.

Nea runs up behind you both, exclaiming, “Damn! Now that was just sad, Slug.” She slaps you on the back and laughs. “Guess it's not speed you’ve got going for you…”

Sounds like you’ve got a new nickname. And it’s not very flattering… _Sigh._

David catches up too, panting with exertion. “You lot are faster than I’ve been givin’ you credit for.” He’s completely winded, and his muscles are sleeked in sweat.

Meg faces you. “So, where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “Just sorta… wandering. Might find something if we look long enough.”

You drag your arm across your sweaty forehead, then turn around and keep following the beaten path through the fog. You’re tailed by the three, but you put some distance between them, inviting Bastion to retake its place beside you.

“I’m out here now, so where do I go from here?” you ask, looking up at it.

Bastion grins down at you. _“You should feel drawn toward the other marks. A sort of pull, an urge to find them… What do you feel?”_

“Cold,” you answer, sighing. “And tired and _frustrated.”_ You rub your hands together for warmth and mutter, “When you offered guidance, I assumed you meant it literally… But I’ve got the reins.”

_“You’re the only one capable of seeing these winding paths,”_ Bastion replies, placing a hand on your shoulder. _“No one else but_ ** _you_** _can hold these reins.”_

You swipe its hand away. “Why does it feel like I’m holding the world on my shoulders?”

_“You_ ** _are_** _carrying a substantial weight,”_ Bastion answers. _“But I can carry the burden with you,”_ it grins.

“Can you carry _me_ , too? My legs are killing me…”

Bastion vanishes with a laugh. As soon as it's gone, Nea comes charging up past you. “Hey, I think we’ve struck gold!”

The wall of fog on the path ahead suddenly parts, revealing a small wooden hovel. It’s a two-story cabin with a bricked foundation, a rickety porch out front, and a rocking chair sitting under the patio cover. It’s reminiscent of the old cabin you happened upon before.

David almost bowls you over as he approaches the hovel. “Aye, we could find some tools ‘ere! Finally start constructin’ some shacks around camp!”

Meg follows him, saying, “Claud’ and (Y/N) said the last place was empty. What makes you think we’ll find anything here?”

“There’s no harm in lookin’!”

He and Nea race up the porch steps, and Meg follows leisurely after them. Bastion appears at your side. _“You’re getting better,”_ it says, staring down at you. _“This one came easy.”_

  
You don’t know how you did it, because you hardly felt a thing. But if it’s true you’re the reason these things are showing up in the fog, then there must be some truth to everything Bastion’s said…

You go up the porch and enter the cabin. Nea’s strolling through the empty foyer to a doorway on the opposite side of the room, and Meg’s heading upstairs. A few wooden shelves are tacked to the walls on either side of you, each topped with empty glass jars and vials, there's a fireplace straight ahead, and a single square window that allows moonlight to flood into the room. The floorboards underfoot creak and groan, pressing caution.

But David’s none too cautious as he tramps across the floor. He throws open the spandrel door beneath the stairs and knits his brows in apparent disappointment. “Oi, this place is picked-clean.”

“What’d I tell you?” you hear Meg call from upstairs.

David huffs and slams the door shut. “Tired a’ sleepin’ in the dirt,” he grumbles.

You approach another door on the other side of the loft and twist the knob. The door whines as it parts open, and you poke your head inside the room.   
It’s a study, you realize. An antiquated wooden desk is pressed against the far wall below a curtained window, and two empty bookshelves stand on either side of it. A vintage red floral rug is laid over the wooden floor.

You step into the room and jump in fright when Bastion appears behind you. _“Your predecessor had come to this place, as well. You might still find some of his belongings, unless the fog has already taken them…”_  
It disappears, and you begin your search. You pull open one of the desk drawers and rifle through a mess of old papers. But every sheet you pluck into your hands is blank. The second drawer bores you no fruit, either. The wooden paneling is all burnt up, and anything that once occupied the space is just ash, now.

A sigh leaves your parted lips and you slam the drawer shut. “The fog strikes again,” you mutter.

You turn around and pause. The floor groans. Normally, you wouldn’t think anything of it, but as you take a second step, you hear an awful crack, then your own startled shout as the floor gives way completely. The wooden boards splinter and break apart, swallowing the rug whole into a deep, dark abyss. You’re almost taken too, but your saving grace comes as David’s arm winding around your waist and snatching you out of the room.

You both crash to the floor in the foyer, and you land on top of him with a grunt. “Shit—” you curse.

Your head snaps back over your shoulder to behold the sight inside the study. The entire floor is all but gone, and everything that once rested in the room, swallowed up by the abyss. Your brows draw together. “What the hell?”

“Oi, what the hell is right!” David barks. “What’d you do t’ make the floor fall apart like tha’, aye?”

You scoff. “Nothing.”

After picking yourself up, David stands too, and says, “Lucky I grabbed ya' when I did.”

“Yeah,” you say, turning to peer into the abyss. An awful, rancid stench emanates from the darkness below, making your stomach flip. It smells like disease and death… Feeling nauseated, you step back and face David. “I could kiss you right now.”

David laughs. “You’ll have t’ buy me a pint first, mate!”

You hear fast footfalls, then Nea and Meg both enter the foyer, each appearing baffled.

“What happened?” Nea asks, eyes wide. And when she spots the abyss behind you, her eyes widen further. “The _hell?”_  
Meg beholds the sight and scoffs. “This place is falling apart.”

You give a nod. “Yeah, we should go…”

They all share that notion. Nea bounds across the room quickly, and Meg plants her feet carefully as she follows in tow. “I don’t wanna know what’s down that hole,” she utters.

You show the same caution as you follow David. But one second you’re there, the next, you’re not. You blink, and it’s changed.

The room is lit up with orange light from the flames that burn in the fireplace. The window is curtained, and the door shut. You can’t move, you realize, but you _are_ moving. Someone else is in control. You’re in somebody else’s shoes, seeing through their eyes.   
The body that isn’t yours moves across the foyer and enters the closed study. It’s furnished again, and the abyss is gone. Candles are lit atop the desk, basking the room in orange light.

“It’s something,” a voice mutters, not your own. _Bryce’s_ , you recognize.

You draw the chair away from the desk and sit down. A satchel comes off over your head and is laid to rest on the floor. Your hands rifle through it and bring out a book. A very familiar red book, the same one you saw Bryce with before—

You’re skimming through the pages quickly, a pen in hand. And try as you might, you can’t process any of the messy scribbles or excerpts written over the pages. Bryce finally stops skimming and lands on a blank page. You lift the pen to write, but a voice beckons you from somewhere outside in the fog.

“Bryce?” a man calls.

You stop and look back at the study door. “Damnit,” Bryce curses. You close the book and leave the study. You cross the main room and stop at a painting on the wall. After nudging it aside, a large hole is presented, and you stuff the satchel inside, book and all. The painting is nudged back in place, and you move toward the door.

And when you blink again, you’re back. Back in the cabin, no fire burning in the fireplace, and the cold, rotting abyss still beckoning you from the study.

But something _else_ beckons you, your intuition. You hadn’t noticed it before, but there _is_ a hole in the wall where the painting was in the vision. You approach it and stop, brows furrowed. And after some hesitation, you reach your hand inside. At first, you feel nothing. But then your knuckles brush over a cloth strap. You curl your fingers around it and pull it out. Excitement suddenly courses through you as you dig your hand around. But that excitement is short-lived. It’s sapped away as you realize, with despondence, that the satchel is empty. You even flip it over and give it a good shake, but only dust showers out.

_“An echo,”_ Bastion says behind you, startling you.

You turn to face it. “What do you mean?”

_“It is an echo,”_ Bastion repeats. It clarifies _, “A crude copy of what was once there, at a time before. The fog maintains the images of these things, but not to the full extent. It has faded anything that was once inside that bag, as it does to everything not born in this place.”_

You scoff. “Of course it has…”

You drop the satchel to the floor and shake your head. “So this was just a waste of time?”

Bastion vanishes as you hear David calling for you outside. “Oi, you coming or what, love?”

Disappoint riddles your face as you step toward the door. But you’re halted when you hear a faint scratching sound. Like claws on wood—  


Your eyes find the hole again, then a startled gasp leaves your mouth as a spiny, black tendril suddenly shoots forth out of the darkness. It wraps around your throat and tightens before wrenching you forward hard. Your skull slams against the wall and you squeeze your eyes shut in pain. You see stars when you open them again. And you can only faintly make out a large dark shape as it breaks through the wall and bowls you over. You hit the floor with a shout, panic surging through you. But you aren’t given even a moment to react before another tendril wraps around your midsection, and you’re dragged screaming after the fleeing creature.

Before you know it, you’re yanked helplessly through the cabin and out a back door. Then down the porch steps, across the clearing, and straight into the fog. The tendrils around your neck and body are tight, and the spines that barb them are digging into your flesh, tearing you apart. You can hardly breathe, and everything’s a blur as the creature races through the fog. Voices reach your ears and call after you, but they’re all faint. Your hands desperately pry at the tendrils, but they don’t give.

Your struggle is futile, but also short-lived. The creature, whatever it is, shrieks suddenly as you hear a sickening crunch. The tendrils restraining you suddenly go slack, and breath returns to your lungs.

As you turn over, gasping for air, you witness four spiny claws sprouted from the earth, entrapping the dark creature and crushing it. They twist and turn, snapping limbs and bones, tearing black flesh. Then the howling monster is yanked into the abyss. The earth closes up and you collapse on the ground, turning over to look at the sky. “Fuck—”

Bastion appears nearby. Its head is tilted, and the familiar grin is lacking, for once. _“Oh, that’s no good,”_ it says.

Blood oozes from the wounds torn into your neck and body. Red stains your clothes and spills out onto the ground. If Bastion hadn’t shown up when it did, you might’ve been ripped in half… You sputter out blood and sarcastically gripe, “You _think?”_  


You hear more shouting. Then your company comes through the fog, their faces twisted in worry and fear. When they lay eyes upon you, they’re horrified.

“What the fuck happened?” Nea shouts, staggering to a stop.

David’s already tearing his shirt off and ripping it into smithereens. Meg’s on her knees by your side, brows deeply furrowed on her face.

You swallow blood. “Something- Something attacked me,” you say. “Came out of the fucking wall and dragged me out here.”

David kneels on your other side and begins dressing the gushing wounds on your neck.

“Then where the hell did it go?” Nea asks, swiveling around quickly and on edge. She bunches her hands into fists at her sides and barks, “Damnit! Fuck this place!” She looks at Meg and David. “Are you slowing their bleeding?”

Meg shakes her head. “No. No, they're bleeding too much—”

“Then let’s get 'em back to camp, then!” David barks. He tries to wind an arm beneath your body, but you wince away from him. “J-Just… let it happen,” you say, swallowing more blood. “I’ll-I'll see you guys back at camp.”

“We don’t know that you’re going to _come_ back!” Meg shouts.

“No one’s ever… died outside of a trial,” Nea says, her arms hugging herself. She looks unsure and afraid. They all do, you notice.

You don’t have the confidence to reassure them. Dread begins to creep in, but then you see Bastion’s dark form looming over your own. It’s grinning again. _“Don't worry,”_ it says. _"Death is not an escape..."_

And with its reassurance, you let yourself relax and fade into darkness. Your friends’ voices become muted, then silent altogether…

* * *

When your eyes peel open again, you’re staring up a dark, starless sky. You’re groggy, and there’s still lingering pain coursing through your body, but you’re alive.

You lie in cold water, and fog surrounds you. You’re in Bastion’s realm, you realize. As you sit up, you wince and moan in pain. “Fuck me…”

_“Is that an invitation?”_

Your eyes find your shadowy companion standing nearby, watching you, grinning and leering. You glower at it.

“What the hell was that thing?” you demand as you get to your feet. “And where was it taking me?”

_“Going into the fog is no walk in the park,”_ Bastion replies. _“There are dangerous things lurking there… And these things can sense you, as well as_ ** _you_** _can sense_ ** _them._** _Some of them want to deter your quest for answers.”_

You scoff. “You knew that and didn’t warn me?”

_“Would it have made a difference?”_ Bastion questions, tilting its head. _“There are risks venturing out into the Dark Realm. But they are risks you must take if you are to find the answers you seek.”_

You sigh and drop a hand to your side, feeling your body where it was once lacerated. “I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I was sure hoping it would be…”

_“You might not have found the answers you sought today, but you are becoming more attuned to the fog. The way it shifts and functions,”_ Bastion says _. “It is not easy, but it will get_ ** _easier._** _You only need to take small steps."_ It grins at you.

Your brows furrow. “My first journey into the fog, and I come out dead, and with nothing to show for it.” You mutter sarcastically, “Off to a great start…”

Bastion’s behind you, its arm spread wide. _“Do you want a hug?”_ it purrs.

You slap one of its spiny appendages away. “Send me back.”  


You take form at the campfire, startling those around it. Your eyes meet Meg’s, Nea’s, David’s, and Kate’s. Meg stops pacing, her worried gaze meeting yours. “Thank god—”

She approaches you, brows knit as she says, “You came back.”

Nea’s sitting on a log nearby. She lifts her glum gaze and scoffs. “Damn. We were starting to think you wouldn’t…”

David’s still shirtless, lingering nearby. He looks at you and scolds, “Oi, no more taking day-trips out there, aye? There’re things out there ‘can’t wait to dig their grubby claws into us.”

Kate sets aside her guitar. “I heard what happened,” she says, standing to approach you. When she stops in front of you, she throws her arms around your shoulders in a quick hug, then pulls back to look you up and down. “Now, this place is as close to hell as any. Whose idea was it to go out that far?” She turns to face the other three. “None of us know what’s out there, and you were just askin’ for trouble!”

Your face flushes red. Sheepishly raising a hand, you say, “Uh, it was me, actually…”

Kate faces you again. “It was?”

Nea kicks a rock into the fire. “Sluggo wanted to take a little stroll,” she says. “We only tagged along to get away from camp. But trust us, we didn’t even go out that far! Whatever that place was, whatever that _thing_ was that attacked them, _it_ came to us.”

Kate hums. “I’ll start puttin’ boots up rear ends if I hear somethin’ like this happens again.” She moves away from you to go retake her seat, and Meg passes you a worried look.

“Well, we learned one thing today,” she says, face glum. “We can die out here, outside of the trials… And there are things that want to kill us.”

She continues pacing, her arms folded over her chest. “I thought we’d be safe out here,” she murmurs.

You worry you’ve damaged their morale. And there was never a lot there to begin with…“It was just a fluke,” you say. “This is the first time something like this has happened, right? So the chances it happens again are slim. There’s nothing to worry about.”

David scoffs. He amusingly jabs, “Aye… You’re a load a’ bad luck, mate. The trials might play in your favor, but not out ‘ere, it seems…” He leans back against a tree and folds a leg over the other.

You find a seat by the fire and sigh. Kate’s strumming her guitar again, and you’re getting lost in your thoughts as you stare at the flickering flames.

Today _was_ a fluke, but you’re considering it a lucky one. Sure, some little gremlin that came out of the wall almost kidnapped you, and sure, you _did_ die, but you also found something. An echo, as useless as it is, is still a clue. A sign you’re on the right track.

_Just take small steps,_ you think. Small steps and _discretion._ You might be on house arrest now, so discretion has become a must. David definitely won’t be letting you wander out there anymore, and Kate might _actually_ put her boot up your ass if she finds out you have…

Small steps and discretion. And _then_ you find your answers…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Which characters do you want to see more interactions with? (not counting licensed characters (you can count Ghostface, though)). I’d just like some input, so I know if there are some I should prioritize over others. And I’m going to introduce *love interest* chapters next, so which survivors/killers do you wanna get lovey with?


End file.
